Page 113 of The Duke and Lady Scandal
“Saved by that bloody boot.” Ben chuckled, and Allie pushed at his chest playfully. “We should pin this,” he told her, “in the back.”
“We most definitely should,” Eve agreed. In fact, she took the page right out of Allie’s fingers and marched straight back to do it.
“Thank you,” Allie told Ben, turning to twine her arms around his neck. “For understanding how much that would mean to me.”
“Thank you for marching into my office.” He glanced up to see that Mr. Gibson and Dom were distracted and gave her a quick kiss. “And for saving me.”
“With the boot,” she teased.
“From my fear and stubborn foolishness. Here with you is exactly where I’m meant to be.”
“And where you’ll stay?”
“Always.”
Epilogue
Allie woke with a start, and it took her a moment to realize where she was.
Then she felt the soothing warmth of her husband’s body against hers and smiled. Now she remembered. She’d settled onto his lap an hour ago after discovering that you can indeed make love in a carriage.
Ben stroked his fingers down her cheek and offered her a sleepy smile in return.
“Was it a good nap?” he asked, his voice deep and husky as if he’d nodded off for a bit too.
“It was,” Allie told him as she shifted onto the carriage bench next to him. Every inch of her body that had been pressed against his was deliciously warm, and she was tempted to snuggle in closer and doze off again. “But we should arrive soon, if the weather holds, and I want to remember as much as I can.”
Allie was determined to imprint this trip upon her mind and detail it as thoroughly as she could in writing. Though she didn’t know if she’d ever print her travel journals—and she hoped there would be many more—she’d decided when they’dset off from London that she’d record her impressions the way her mother used to during her journeys with Father.
County Mayo was such a lush, vibrant green it took her breath away, and tonight they would be arriving in Newport, near Rockfleet Castle, purportedly the principal stronghold of lady pirate Grace O’Malley. Allie couldn’t wait for her first sight of what remained of the fifteenth-century structure.
She noticed Ben had set aside his journal too.
“What were you writing?” She glanced down at the brown leather-bound volume. “Or sketching?”
He’d only revealed his sketches to her recently, claiming they weren’t quite up to snuff. But they were, and Allie loved seeing what he found interesting enough to capture with his pencil. He’d explained that he came by whatever skill he possessed via his work as a detective, since he’d often sketch out what he saw at crime scenes. His style was loose but vivid, as he’d trained himself to capture his subject quickly.
“May I see?” she asked, reaching out to tap her fingers against the journal.
He scooped the volume up for her and flipped to the page he’d been working on.
Allie leaned in, expecting to see the Irish countryside—a thicket of trees, fluffy sheep, or even the windswept clouds. Instead, she found studies of her. Half a dozen profiles of her sleeping, but he’d managed to capture somethingunique in each of them. The way the light caught the slope of her cheek and cast the rest of her face in shadow. A slight smile on her lips as if she’d been dreaming of something pleasing. The pinched lines between her brows when a dream turned troubling. He noted her every freckle and beauty mark as if he was drawing a map.
Ben had captured her in much more detail than his usual drawings.
“How did you manage all this with me practically in your lap?” she asked in an awestruck whisper.
“I’m a very determined man.” He winked and smiled, a full-bodied one that crinkled the skin by his eyes and made a dimple appear in his cheek.
The carriage began to climb what felt like a rather sizable hill and Allie clutched at Ben’s lapel to keep herself steady. One discovery she’d made about travel was that hours of jostling in a carriage did not make her stomach very happy—especially now.
“I’ve got you,” Ben reassured her, and wrapped his arm a bit more tightly around her.
“Perhaps our next journey should be on a boat,” she told him with a chuckle.
He shot her a dubious glance. “Seasickness is quite unforgiving, or so I understand.”
The prospect did not sound appealing.
